Page 57 of The Magpie Lord
Crane’s breath hissed. “It’s mine. He passed it down to me, just like the house and the land and the title. You have my permission to use it.”
Stephen bit his lip. “I can’t promise it will work.”
“Just geton.”
Stephen took a breath and slipped the ring onto his finger, gripped it with his other hand. He flexed his fingers, moved them. There was a short tense silence, then he shut his eyes, and Crane read the hope going out of his face.
“Anything?” he said, but wasn’t surprised when Stephen shook his head without meeting his gaze.
“Sorry. It’s got some kind of life, but... Well, maybe if there was some power here. But there isn’t.” He took a deep breath. “That’s a blow. I was rather hoping...”
“It was worth a try,” said Crane, not completely convincingly. “Is there anything else you can use?”
“Not here. I’m sorry.” Stephen was staring at the floor. “I was staking everything on that, to be honest. Not that there’s a lot to stake.”
“Well...fuck. Let’s find some weapons. No, leave that on.”
Stephen paused in the act of pulling the ring off his finger. “It’s not going to help.”
“It’s the Magpie Lord’s ring, yes?”
“Yes?”
“Then wear it,” Crane said. “In fact, keep it. It’s yours.”
“You can’t do that,” said Stephen.
“Of course I can. It was mine, I’ve given it to you.”
“It’s the Magpie Lord’s ring!”
“And now it’s yours.” Crane held Stephen’s gaze. “I might be his descendant, but you’re the one doing his work. And...” He reached outand closed Stephen’s hand into a fist, his hand on top of the younger man’s prickling fingers. “I think we could both use a little help with morale at this point.”
“I... God. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say ‘thank you, Lucien’.”
“Thank you, Lucien,” said Stephen faintly. “Well. I’ll have to live through this just to show it off to Esther.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Stephen contemplated the ring on his finger and looked up with a glow in his eyes that brought a smile to Crane’s.
“Thank you, Lucien,” he said again, his voice stronger, and Crane grabbed his shoulder and pulled him over for a hard, almost savage kiss. Stephen returned it fiercely, his hand tangling in Crane’s hair and sending sparks running through his scalp. Tongues clashed, stubble scraped against stubble, and then Stephen’s whole body stiffened with a rigidity that had nothing to do with pleasure.
“They’re here,” he said with utter certainty.
“Hell,” said Crane. “Oh, hell.”
Stephen stood. “Lucien, I’m sorry. I’m wildly outmatched. You’ve nowhere to run to. We will go and face them and I’ll see what we can do but I will not make a deal with them. Not for my life or yours. If I do, they will own me, and I would rather be dead. If you choose to... Well, do what you must, but please, remember, to these people you’re cattle. Just be aware.”
“Understood. Is there any point in finding a weapon?”
“No. Let’s just go.”
They gripped hands for a second, silent, and strode together, feet ringing on the floorboards, through the Long Gallery and to the top of the Great Stair, and looked down to where a man and a woman waited. Crane heard Stephen’s soft hiss.
“Oh, a morning call,” said Crane, clearly and loudly. “How delightful.” He glared down. The two strangers stared back, unmoved.They looked intensely solid, radiated something that was not quite a glow, a disturbing sense of immanent power. “And who are you?”
